


floral & fading

by OedipusOctopus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged up characters, M/M, Soulmate AU, also a little bit of a flower shop au, and also cannot handle pain, and maybe a little coffee shop au because i can't stop myself, background iwakurodai, background tanasuga, but asahi loves flowers and gets many tattoos of them, daichi and suga own a coffee shop, fair warning i know nothing about flowers or skating so, florist!asahi, noya is afraid of needles, rating mostly for language because noya has a potty mouth, soulmates share tattoos! au, suga and noya kinda bffs not gonna lie, tattoo soulmate au PLUS some ppl get an extra special gift with their soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OedipusOctopus/pseuds/OedipusOctopus
Summary: Noya hates needles, can't stand pain. And yet his skin is covered in ink, pastel and watery, in the shape of every flower under the sun. He doesn't know he got to age twenty-seven without noticing someone with as many tattoos as him— hiding them is no easy feat, and they're literallyeverywhere. But a soft-looking stranger with a row of studs along the shell of his ear opens a flower shop in town, and Noya just knows that's his soulmate.Too bad this Asahi character refuses to roll up his sleeves.~~Or, a soulmate AU where the tattoos your soulmate gets show up on your skin. Noya's soulmate connection has the extra flavour of the pain passing through the soulbond, luckily for him.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu
Comments: 30
Kudos: 188





	floral & fading

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to yet another soulmate AU because i have a problem :) this time for my favs, asanoya <3 i hope y'all enjoy this little stereotype/trope inversion wherein asahi is the one covered in tattoos because noya cannot stand needles!! 
> 
> i added a little extra something to the typical "share tattoos" AU, wherein some people have "special" connections that come with a special _thing_. i hope it makes sense as you read!
> 
> there is a brief mention of underage drinking in the beginning, and a few more references to alcohol throughout.
> 
> now with [ART](https://interstellarhitchhiker.tumblr.com/post/637911144564178944/asahi-and-noya-together-in-asahis-flower-shop)!!!! done by the amazing [ellis](https://twitter.com/cursed__amulet)!!!!
> 
> WE HAVE [MORE ART](https://twitter.com/OedipusOctopus/status/1350421580241797121/photo/1)!!! this lovely wonderful piece was a late christmas gift from an irl <3 
> 
> title from [floral & fading](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8puVdocLLc&ab_channel=FearlessRecords) by [pierce the veil](https://open.spotify.com/artist/4iJLPqClelZOBCBifm8Fzv?si=N16tX4KaTNOwFFhf60AwPA)

The feeling is, at first, the craziest sensation he’s ever felt. A ghost burn over the fleshy inside of his forearm, right below the crook of his elbow. It’s kinda like the time he tried to pick up that scraggly alleycat on his walk home last spring— like a long scratch across his skin. He’s in the middle of class, hunched over his desk as he’s trying so hard to concentrate on touching his pencil to the paper of the exam booklet in front of him and not on the way the girl in front of him keeps sighing and flipping her long hair over her shoulder and onto his desk. It’s easy enough to ignore the hot, tingly sensation crawling further down his arm because it’s hidden under his school uniform and he just needs to pass this damn test so he can graduate already and get the hell out of here. 

But then it _hurts._ Bad.

Of course it’s on his right arm, his writing arm, that the phantom sensation morphs into excruciating pain. Like— like a hot line of fire licking up the inside of his arm. 

Ah, shit. Yupp.

His soulmate is definitely getting a tattoo, right in the middle of the most important final exam of Nishinoya’s high school career. 

Just like the time he got that stupid fucking smiley face forever poked into the skin of his ankle at that one party Ryuu dragged him to and got him way too drunk at (the jello shots tasted way better than any beer he’d had at that point, sue him), Noya’s vision blurs around the edges, his head gets all woozy and his fingers start to go numb. 

And then he passes out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He feels it coming. Every time he turns around, he catches the new guy staring at his calves. Unlike the doe-eyed looks from middle aged women he gets when he goes to the bookstore, or the appreciative awkward half-smiles thrown his way when he plays at the coffee shop on Thursdays, this guy has been glaring damn daggers into the stalk of delphinium inked into the back of his right leg. And probably also the hyacinths sprouting from his ankle on his left. 

Sure, he could wear long pants, but it’s fucking hot as hell outside. He would literally melt away from his skeleton if he had to walk all the way home in jeans. Besides all that though, the pastel flowers crawling up his legs are his favourite— it’s when his soulmate decided to start experimenting with watercolor. It hurt like a buttcheek on a stick, but they turned out so fucking beautiful that even Ryuu gave him a double thumbs up the next morning when Noya had bounded into the kitchen with a cry of _Look what this crazy bastard did now!_

And also, fuck anyone who says anything about his tattoos. 

“You got a problem, dude?”

The guy— Futa-something— jumps at Noya’s aggressive tone, furrowing his brows. “Your tattoos are something else, man. Just trying to get a look.”

Noya rolls his eyes as he places the last set of wheels in the display case. “You’ve never seen flowers?”

“Not on a guy with a reputation like yours.”

It’s impossible for Noya not to cackle in response. _Reputation?_ He has a _reputation?_ For what, being the moron that knocked over an entire board display and spent the next four hours fixing it? Or maybe for being the idiot that got arrested for knocking over the statue of the mayor in the middle of the park that one time because Suga dared him to kick it when no one was looking?

Futa-whatever leans against the sales counter, picking at his nails in feigned nonchalance. “I heard you were a gang leader in high school. You retired and then, what, starting growing gardens on your skin?”

Oh. Yeah, that, too. Noya scowls and stands, brushing away nonexistent dirt from the front of his shorts. “I was a shit in high school but I wasn’t a _gang leader._ Jeez, you get into a few fights and that’s your legacy?” He moves toward the door with a big red EMPLOYEES ONLY sign half-assedly taped to it, pausing with his hand above the handle. He doesn’t turn back to the new guy when he says, “It’s not really any of your business, but these are from my soulmate.”

The guy hums lightly from behind Noya, but doesn’t say anything. 

Noya pushes his way into the back. “God damn newbies,” he mutters under his breath as he rounds the corner into the break room. 

“Futakuchi already on your nerves?” 

“Eh,” Noya grunts, flinging himself into the empty couch cushion next to Iwaizumi. “Just the same old shit.”

Nodding, Iwaizumi keeps scrolling through whatever he’s looking at on his phone. “He’s a bit of an ass, but he knows his stuff. He was pro for a while. Had a few sponsorships.”

“Dang.” There’s a box stuffed full of pastries from The Bird’s Nest on the table, and the jelly donut that he knows Suga packed especially for him is calling his name. “Seems kinda lazy to me.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. 

“Why are you here so early anyway? Doesn’t your shift start in like an hour?”

Sighing, Iwaizumi tips his head back. “Kuroo took the car this morning and Daichi needed the van for some delivery or something. Didn’t feel like walking in this damn heat, so I had Daichi drop me off.”

“Delivery? What about Suga’s car? The thing is ginormous.”

“He can’t drive right now. Broken ankle, remember?”

Right. How could he forget the great tree-jumping debacle of last Saturday.

(He does remember through the haze of vodka sodas past, just barely, Tanaka nearly in tears trying to coax Suga down from the mighty oak in their backyard, and Suga cackling while gripping a mostly empty bottle of Honey Jack in one hand and a tree branch in the other shouting something like _You’ll catch me, I know it, you always do!_ )

(Tanaka did not catch him.)

“If you don’t eat the donut, you know Suga is going to complain. To Daichi. Who will complain to me.”

“And then you’ll complain to me, yeah, yeah.” Noya groans and heaves himself up, reaching for the devilish desserts disguised as breakfast. “Tanaka is gonna kill me, though.” He lowers his voice in an attempt to imitate his best friend. “‘Your calorie counts have been too high, boy! What do you think all this work is for huh?’ Like it isn’t his boyfriend feeding me all the time!”

Iwaizumi huffs out a laugh. “It’s actually smart of them. Suga fattens them up and then sends them to Tanaka to work it all off.”

Before he can respond, the door to the breakroom flies open with way too much force, the handle slamming into the wall that their shitty boss just got around to fixing two weeks ago. In the doorway, Futakuchi stands without a spare ounce of guilt or remorse on his face. Just that half-smirk that rubs Noya the wrong way. “I can’t figure out how to open the cash drawer.”

“You just hit the button that says ‘open drawer,'" Nishinoya says flatly. 

Futakuchi shrugs and leans against the doorframe, crossing his ankles. "Couldn't find it."

"It's the biggest— fine. Fine. I'll show you." Beside him, Iwaizumi snorts. 

~~

The smell of freshly roasted coffee beans greets him, like usual, when he pushes open the door to The Bird’s Nest. But it’s not Daichi’s face that greets him from behind the counter. Nope, today Suga is hunched over the open space next to the register, his chin cupped in his hand, his lips turned downward in the biggest pout Noya has ever seen on a grown man. 

“Daichi kick you out of the kitchen?” Noya asks with a chuckle, shrugging his guitar case off his shoulder. 

Suga sighs and throws his hands in the air. “Yeah, the bastard! He never makes the muffins right, but no, I’m apparently ‘injured,’” Suga makes air quotes with his fingers, “and ‘incapable of moving unassisted.’” He huffs, kicking at the crutch leaning against the counter. “You drop one tray of cookies and all of a sudden you’re a cripple!”

Noya just shakes his head and starts arranging the table in the corner the way he likes it. He got here early today, a couple hours before the regular evening rush. The new strings sitting at the bottom of the guitar case are begging to be put on, and he’s weak to the call. 

“Hey, Tanaka told me you have a new one! What is it this time?” Suga leans forward in the stool he’s sitting on. 

“Stay where you are, cripple. I don’t need Tanaka on my ass if you hurt yourself worse.” Noya pushes up the sleeve of his shirt as he ambles over to Suga. “It looks like this sleeve is almost done. There’s some new daffodils here.” He points to the yellow and white petals etched into the skin of his shoulder, the lines crisp and clean. 

“Yikes, that must’ve hurt a lot. It’s all bone.” Suga reaches up and runs a finger along the ink. “It really sucks that you had to get this kind of special connection, huh? You’re such a wuss when it comes to pain.”

Noya rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and you and Tanaka get something as sick as telepathy. Like, what the hell? You two can have mushy conversations with each other without even talking and I pass out everytime my needle-addicted soulmate decides it’s time for a new tattoo.”

Chuckling, Suga leans back so Noya can roll his sleeve back down. “Speaking of, he knows you ate that donut. He’s got an extra mile planned for you tomorrow.”

Noya groans. 

“But hey! At least you have something special, right? Daichi is just a regular, traditional fuddy duddy.”

“Ah, yes, Daichi and his very traditional two boyfriends,” Daichi says with resignation in his voice as he comes around the corner, carrying a tray of muffins that look totally fine, regardless of the way Suga squints at them like they insulted his mom. 

“Since we’re talking about your boyfriends, Daichi-san,” Noya starts, bending over the counter to cradle his chin in the palms of his hands. 

“For the last time, _no._ Kuroo will not tell you if someone came into his shop to get the same tattoo. It’s against store policy. And common courtesy.”

Noya frowns. “C’mon, we’re basically family. He can tell me.”

Daichi waves his hand dismissively as he starts lining up the muffins behind the display case. “You have his phone number; grovel to him.”

“D’you think that would work? I’ve been told I look good on my knees.”

Suga fake gags, and Daichi mutters a “Jesus Christ, Noya” under his breath. 

Noya grins. 

Tufts of purple and white catch the corner of his eye as he’s about to say something daring and witty in response. He turns his head, looking out at all the tables scattered throughout the cafe. Resting in the centre of each table, a small flower arrangement stuffed into a small glass bowl. Short green stems topped with clusters of small, lavender-colored petals are surrounded by the thing he’s recently learned is called baby’s breath— tiny white poufs that are used as filler in most arrangements, but Noya feels a weird fondness for all the same. 

“What’s the deal with the flowers?” he asks, hoping his voice comes out steady over the way his heart stupidly starts picking up speed. 

“Oh, a nice florist came by this morning!” Suga says as he plucks a muffin from Daichi’s hand, ignoring the affronted _hey_ that comes from his business partner. “Apparently he just opened up his shop a couple blocks away. He said he’s trying to get his name out there or something and gave us these centerpieces. Aren’t they cute?”

“A florist, you say?” The hope slowly building in Noya’s gut makes his fingers itch. 

Daichi heaves a heavy sigh. “Noya, no. You’ve bothered every florist in a twenty mile radius. Leave this guy alone.”

“But it’s for love, Daichi. _Love._ Don’t you want me to be happy?” Noya gives him the best puppy-dog look he can, widened eyes and pouty lips and all. 

“Don’t give me that. I’m immune.”

“I mean, he was wearing a sweater and jeans so I couldn’t see if he had any tattoos on him. Sorry, Noya.” Suga carefully unwraps the paper from the muffin, eyeing the pastry closely. 

Noya perks up. “A sweater? In August? He has to be hiding tattoos. No one in their right mind would wear a sweater right now!”

“Don’t you have a show to be setting up for?” Daichi asks tersely. 

Gesturing widely to the completely empty cafe, Noya says, “Oh yes, let me get right to playing for your many patrons.”

Of course, because the universe loves fucking with him, the bell attached to the front entrance chimes as a customer walks in. 

~~

He doesn’t forget about the new florist during his set. No, the tidbit of information has nested itself in his brain and won’t leave. The most recent google maps search on his phone is _flower shops near me,_ and sure enough, the name of the new place popped up while he was on his ten minute break. 

_Petal Pushers._

God, Noya kinda really hopes this guy is his soulmate. At least he has more humour than the four old ladies in charge of the other flower shops in town. 

A shiver trills up his spine as he thinks about the awful, terrible encounters he’s had with the local florists. He’s just trying to find his soulmate, there’s really no need to be so mean about it!

But this guy. He’s got promise.

Noya can feel it all the way to his toes. 

(When he tells Suga and Daichi as much, Suga rests a hand on his shoulder and says _All 4 feet of hope must be too much for you to handle, huh?_ )

(Whatever.)

The place is only three blocks away from The Bird’s Nest. Not a far walk at all, even though it is in the opposite direction of his apartment. The listing on Google didn’t have store hours yet, and even the mid-August sun has already fallen from the sky, but there’s a chance it’s open. His curiosity sure as shit isn’t going to be satiated until he can get a good look at this guy. He knows exactly where all his tattoos end and begin— unless this guy really insists on wearing long sleeves and long pants through this ridiculous summer heat, there’s bound to be at least one showing. 

Alright.

He can do this. 

He can— he can see the sign as he crosses the street. _Petal Pushers,_ in a font that is thankfully not the same Comic Sans as two of the other flower shops in town. 

So far, this guy is already exceeding the (very low) expectations Noya has. 

There’s no neon sign in the window declaring the store OPEN. But Noya does not give up hope. No, he walks right up to the door, telling himself that his heart isn’t hammering against his ribcage, and that even if it was, it would be a totally normal response to maybe meeting your soulmate. 

Yeah, that’s what he tells himself. 

But as he steps up to the entrance, he sees it in big, bold lettering. 

CLOSED. 

Well. Shit. 

Noya leans forward, lifting his hands to the glass to get a better view of the inside. Flowers, flowers, flowers, register, more flowers… No guy. 

With a frustrated sigh, Noya leans back and reaches for his phone tucked into his bag. There’s at least a sign with the hours listed, and he’ll be damned if he misses this mysterious owner tomorrow. When he looks back into the shop, phone raised to take a picture of the hours, he sees him. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

The man isn’t facing Noya and doesn’t appear to have seen him at all. From this angle, Noya has a perfect view of his profile. And. Wow. What a profile. 

He doesn’t know what to focus on— the long hair tucked behind his ear, the row of hoops and silver balls studded into said ear, the glasses that teeter perilously on the edge of his nose, the scraggly little goatee at his chin, or maybe the sharp jawline disappearing into a thick curtain of hazelnut locks. 

And he’s fucking huge.

Damn.

_Damn._

All of a sudden, all the breath in his lungs is forced out of him, only to be replaced by a warm feeling blossoming beneath his ribcage. 

This guy is 100% his soulmate. 

He doesn’t need to see the tattoos to know.

He has half a mind to slam his fists against the glass, to beg and plead until the guy opens the door, but no. He needs— he has to make a good first impression. 

(They’re going to be together _forever_. He wants that to start immediately, not after this guy gets over whatever hard feelings he might have about a stranger banging at his shop’s door an hour after he’s closed for the day.)

So he’ll come back tomorrow.

~~

He feels the bass line ripping through the air more than he hears it as he fumbles with the spare key Tanaka gave him _for emergencies._

Noya thinks finding his soulmate is emergency enough. 

He can’t get the door open fast enough, but when he finally does, he stumbles through the entryway, kicking off his shoes hastily without a care where they land. Man, the music is _loud._

As he fast-walks— he doesn’t _run_ because that time Suga karate chopped him in the stomach for accidentally knocking over an apparently very sentimental vase in his haste to chase after Tanaka still haunts him— to the living room, Noya calls out, “Hey, is this Trey Songz? It’s been so long—” 

He rounds the corner and comes face to face with his best friend and _his_ boyfriend in a very compromising position. 

Damn, when did Suga get his nipples pierced?

Suga squawks, scrambling off of Tanaka while groping for the blanket folded over the back of the couch.

“Babe, what’s—” Tanaka turns to where Noya stands, cutting himself off when they make eye contact. “Jesus, Noya! What the hell are you doing here?”

Suga stands, velour blanket wrapped around his waist. “Why the fuck did we give him a spare key?!”

Frazzled, Tanaka reaches for one of the throw pillows strewn about the floor to cover himself. “It-It’s for emergencies!”

“Guys, the music is _really loud_! I can’t hear you!” Noya shouts. 

“Oh my god!”

Tanaka reaches to the coffee table to grab the remote to the stereo, pushing a few buttons until the music comes to a halt. 

“Thanks, Tanaka.” Noya runs a hand through his hair and walks over to the armchair next to the couch. He plops into it bonelessly. 

Suga stands there in the middle of the living room, nothing but a blanket wrapped around his waist, staring incredulously down at Noya. “I think it’s time we talk about boundaries.”

Noya throws his head back. “I found my soulmate.”

There’s a tense silence, and Noya knows it’s Suga and Tanaka having one of their stupid soulmate conversations inside their heads. He continues looking up at the ceiling, stuck between wanting to push away the tingly sensation crawling along his fingertips that hasn’t left since he saw the florist through the window and wanting to hold onto the feeling just a little longer. 

Eventually, Suga sighs and hobbles off in the direction of their bedroom, his crutches nowhere in sight. Noya hears Tanaka shuffle on the couch, clear his throat. 

“So. Your soulmate, huh?”

Noya nods, letting his eyes fall shut. “I don’t think we should talk until you have pants on, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah, Suga’s on it.” 

They sit in silence for a minute. Just enough time for Noya’s mind to flash through the next few decades of his life, a long-haired giant with flower tattoos and a dozen ear piercings graying at his side. He can see it all perfectly clearly— from their first date (afternoon coffee, a cheesy movie they can laugh at together, overpriced dinner, and a nice walk through the park while Noya recounts the tale of his arrest because it was a very badass moment for him), to moving in together (preferably into something bigger than Noya’s postage stamp of a studio apartment), to sitting in rocking chairs on their porch and yelling at kids to get off their lawn (with their matching mugs of tea spiked with spiced rum, of course). 

He vaguely registers the sound of Suga’s crutches connecting with the hardwood floors as he comes back into the living room, but he doesn’t want to stop imagining finally getting to meet his soulmate. _Finally._

There’s more shuffling— Tanaka slipping into sweats, probably— but thankfully no voices to interrupt his daydreams. 

God, 9am can’t come fast enough. 

(That’s definitely something Noya never in a million years would’ve anticipated thinking.)

“Aight, I’m decent.”

Noya takes a deep breath and opens his eyes to see Tanaka and Suga looking at him expectantly from the couch. 

“We are going to talk about boundaries at some point, you know that, right.” Suga says with a finality in his voice that ensures it is not a question. 

Waving his hand dismissively, Noya leans forward. “Yeah, yeah. But my _soulmate._ Suga, you didn’t tell me this guy is _hot!”_

“I—” Suga’s nose scrunches up in confusion. “Oh, wait, you mean that florist?”

Noya nods. 

“Oh! So you saw his tattoos?” Excitement creeps into Suga’s voice as he, too, leans forward to match Noya’s pose. 

“No!”

“What—”

“You didn’t—”

Tanaka and Suga look at each other, matching expressions of befuddlement on their faces.

“Nah, he was wearing a sweater and jeans. Completely covered up in all the places I have ink.”

“If you didn’t…” Suga trails off, eyebrows furrowing.

“If you didn’t see his tattoos,” Tanaka fills in, “then how do you know he’s your soulmate?”

“Because!” Noya stands, raising his hands in the air. “I just know! I got this crazy tingly feeling all over, and my chest got really tight and warm—”

“You’re literally describing a heart attack—”

“Gah! It’s not a heart attack, Tanaka! It’s like— like my whole body just lit up!”

“So a stroke then. Suga, you know CPR, right?”

“Pretty sure CPR wouldn’t help a stroke, babe.”

“Oh my god!” Noya jumps up and down to pull attention back to him. “I’m not having a stroke! I’m having an epiphany. I just met my soulmate, guys! At least pretend to be excited.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Tanaka rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together like he’s a dad in some romcom. “Tell us about your mysterious soulmate.”

“Well.” Heat rises to his cheeks. Noya sits back down. “I didn’t exactly… talk to him. And he didn’t see me.”

Tanaka blinks slowly. Once, twice. Suga just keeps staring wide-eyed at Noya. 

There’s a long stretch of silence.

After a literal eternity, Tanaka’s voice comes out quiet, even (read: scary). “So you didn’t _meet_ him.”

“Uh.” Noya scratches at the back of his neck. “Not exactly. I saw him through the door at his shop.”

“So you’re telling me that you stared at this guy through a glass door. And didn’t see his tattoos. But you’re sure he’s your soulmate.”

From the looks on their faces, Noya knows they’re talking to each other in their heads. “No, I didn’t talk to him. But I swear, there’s no way this guy isn’t my soulmate. You have to believe me!”

Tanaka sighs. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just…”

“...hard to believe,” Suga supplies with a lopsided smile just reeking of pity. 

Noya scoffs and stands again, turning toward the front door. “Whatever. You’ll see. I’m going to show up to his store tomorrow morning and we’ll talk and he’ll immediately fall in love with me and you two won’t be invited to the wedding.”

Without waiting for a response, Noya stomps to the front door, slips on his shoes, and slams the door on his way out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so, yeah, in retrospect 9am was a bit ambitious for him. 

He angrily swipes away the fourth alarm notification on his phone. Groaning, he sits up. The fishtank sitting innocuously at the other side of the room bubbles away, Jerry happy as can be swimming in circles. 

“Yeah, I bet you’re happy to get fed extra early, huh?”

Noya scrubs a hand over his face, seriously contemplating going back to sleep. The shop is open until 6pm, anyway. He’s got all day to meet his soulmate. 

His _soulmate._

His heart flutters inside his chest at the mere thought of the man he saw through the front of the shop yesterday. 

No, this can’t wait. 

So he forces himself out of bed and walks over to the fishtank in the corner of the room. Like the absolute glutton this goldfish is, Jerry is already swimming to the top of the water, mouth opening and closing in preparation for his breakfast. 

“Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec.”

As he unscrews the cap of the fish food bottle, he thinks back to how that lavender sweater looked stretched over his soulmate’s broad shoulders. As he digs through his dresser for a short-sleeved shirt that doesn’t have some obnoxious graphic printed across the front, he thinks back to the curtain of hair spilling over the collar of his soulmate’s shirt. As he slips on a pair of shorts that has a few washer-damp bills crumpled up in the pocket, he thinks back to the bit of facial hair at his soulmate’s chin. As he brushes his teeth, he thinks back to the chain draped between two piercings on his soulmate’s ear. As he slips on his shoes, he thinks back to his soulmate’s strong jawline that he can’t wait to feel in the palm of his hand. 

As he gives himself a final once-over in the mirror before he heads out, he thinks about his soulmate, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest.

~~

He’s glad he skipped his regular cup of coffee from The Bird’s Nest because his hands are shaking at his sides, no matter how hard he balls his fists. 

It’s so dumb. There’s no reason for him to be nervous, or whatever this weird jittery feeling is that’s currently overwhelming him— making him feel stupid. It’ll be fine. There’s literally no way this guy isn’t his soulmate. One look at the tattoos Noya has carefully left on display and this guy will be on the same page. 

Okay. He can do this. 

The Petal Pushers sign comes into view and this time there’s a neon sign in the window, flashing on, off. Open.

Taking a deep breath to centre himself, Noya crosses the street. Ontofore fate, or whatever.

A little bell rings out above him as he pushes open the door to the flower shop, barely audible over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. 

He takes in the store. Row after row of beautiful flower displays. He recognizes the hyacinths, the roses, the daffodils, the chrysanthemums, the purple flowers from the Bird’s Nest arrangements— lilac, if the internet didn’t lie to him. There are a few fridges behind the counter, and some weird looking scissors and a small pile of trimmed stems next to the register. 

No tall, burly man with the glasses and the hair and the piercings. 

Noya frowns and walks over to the counter. There’s a small silver bell next to the scissors with a sticky note below it that reads _Ring for assistance!_. The dot of the exclamation mark is a tiny five-petalled flower. 

Too. Fucking. Cute. 

Limbs suddenly a lot looser than they were before he walked into the shop, Noya reaches out and rings the bell. A few seconds pass in complete silence. But then there’s the sound of thundering footsteps, like someone racing down stairs, and the door behind the counter flies open. 

Out steps the man he saw the day before, and Noya forgets how to breathe. 

Today, his hair is tied back into a low, loose bun, and the glasses from before are missing. But that same silver jewelry lines the shell of his ear, and he’s wearing khakis and the softest looking sweater the color of blue cotton candy. Still no tattoos. 

It’s fine. 

“S-sorry, I didn’t think anyone would show up this early—” The stranger before him stops mid-sentence, eyes widening as he looks down at Noya from behind the counter. His eyes rove over Noya’s arms, down to his legs, and back up again. Deep pink spreads across his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears. 

Noya grins. “I’m Nishinoya Yuu,” he says, puffing out his chest a little. 

“U-um.” The florist clears his throat. His eyes are trained on the sunflower inked into the skin of Noya’s forearm. “Um. I-I’m A-Asahi.”

Grin broadening, Noya lifts his hands to rest on his hips. 

“Uh, well.” The stranger— no, _Asahi_ — shifts his gaze to the display of those purple flowers like the ones at the coffee shop, then back to Noya’s face. He puts on the fakest customer service smile Noya has ever seen. “How can I help you today?”

Oh. He’s just. Not going to mention the tattoos. 

Unless… he’s not actually… 

Well, this is the first time in his life Noya has felt awkward. Asahi is still looking down at him from the other side of the counter, flush high on his cheeks, nervous smile on his face. And Noya is standing here like an idiot, tattoos on full display for the guy that absolutely is his soulmate but _isn’t acknowledging it._

“Um.” Noya coughs into a fist. He can recover. It’s fine. Totally cool. He’s cool as a pickle, or whatever the saying is. So, of course, he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. “Do you have anything that says ‘I’m sorry I walked in on you and your boyfriend having sex?’”

Fuck. Even the way he splutters is cute.

~~

And so Noya finds himself shoving open the door to The Bird’s Nest with a small bouquet in the crook of his elbow. 

_Blue hyacinths mean “I messed up.” And the pink carnations also mean “I’m sorry,” and these white flowers are—_

_Yeah, baby’s breath, they’re filler. I like them a lot, though._

_I-I like them, too._

“Wow, did someone die?”

Noya scowls at Daichi as he stomps toward the register. “I wish. I’d rather be dead than feel this— this— embarrassed!”

Daichi cocks his head. “You? Embarrassed?”

“Did someone say ‘embarrassed’?” Suga’s voice drifts around the corner. 

Noya groans. 

“Don’t sound so excited to see me.” Suga pops out of the back, one crutch gripped in his left hand, a small tray of scones in the other. “Ooh, are those flowers?” He gasps, scuttling forward as fast as he can to set the pastries on top of the display case. He plucks the bouquet from Noya’s arms. “Is this an apology for yesterday?” Another gasp. “Did you go see the florist? Did you see his tattoos? Noya, c’mon, tell me—”

“Florist?” Daichi interrupts. “Last night? What happened last night?”

“Oh my god, Dai, you won’t believe this. Noya used his spare key and walked in on me and Ryuu right when things were getting good. I mean, I was—”

“I don’t need details—”

“The nipple piercings are new. Nice, Suga.”

“Thank you, Noya. Now. Boundary talk? Or potential soulmate talk? Take your pick.”

“Wait, potential soulmate? Noya, did you—”

“It was the worst, Suga! He still had on a sweater and pants, and he didn’t even say anything when I walked into the shop!”

Suga drops the flowers onto the counter, raising a hand to cover his mouth. “No!”

“Yeah! He just treated me like any other customer!” Noya huffs. “At least he seemed kinda nervous. And he was blushing a lot. That obviously means there’s something else going on, right?”

Daichi throws his hands up in the air, obviously done with trying to keep up with the conversation.

Tapping a finger against his chin, Suga hums contemplatively. “I mean, he was like that when he talked to me, too. So maybe that’s just how he is. Oh, but look!” Suga gestures to the dining room. “New arrangements. Cute, right?”

Sure enough, in the same glass bowls as the day before, a small arrangement sits in the centre of each table. Today, the flowers are big and puffy. And baby blue. 

He thinks back to the pale blue sweater the florist— _Asahi_ — was wearing when he stopped by this morning, how the pastel knit is nearly the same colour as the hydrangeas clustered together in the centerpieces. He remembers the lavender colored sweater Asahi wore when Noya spied through the front of Petal Pushers, and how the soft purple mimicked that of the lilacs on display yesterday. 

Noya groans and drops his head into his folded arms. “I think he matches his sweaters to these flowers. He’s too cute. I’m gonna die.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suga insisted that Asahi doesn't hate him, that maybe he genuinely thought Noya was there to buy flowers and that's it. He carefully explained to Noya that simply showing up to someone's place of business with your tattoos bared for the public doesn't necessarily imply you want to meet your soulmate. 

So he suggests Noya be more obvious. Forward. 

Okay. Noya has to be more forward. That’s fine. He can do forward. 

It’s not until Saturday evening he can make it into Petal Pushers again. 

(He can’t say no to coming in a few hours early to stock, not when Iwaizumi has his arms crossed and looks down at him like _that.)_

But Noya manages to convince Iwaizumi to let him leave thirty minutes early after only an hour of bothering him about _young love_ and _fate._

(Iwaizumi is the biggest softy when it comes to the whole soulmate thing, under all that prickly exterior.)

As Noya walks up to the entrance of the flower shop for the third time in as many days, he kinda wishes he had something to do with his hands. Maybe he should’ve gotten coffees, or something. But it’s obviously too late to do anything about it now— he checks the time on his phone and sees it’s already 5:43. Only 17 minutes to get Asahi to admit they’re soulmates. 

Easy peasy. 

The confidence coursing through him only diminishes a teeny, tiny bit when he pushes open the front door, the tinkling of a silver bell announcing his entrance. At the sound, Asahi looks up from the book he’s reading at his spot by the register. 

“Hey,” Noya says oh-so-eloquently. 

Pink spills across Asahi’s cheeks and he pushes up his glasses with his index finger. _Cute._ “U-uh. Hello. Nishinoya-san, right?”

“Just Noya is fine.” Noya walks up to the counter, takes in the display of marigolds next to the register. Asahi’s blush deepens the closer Noya gets, redness spreading all the way down his neck. Noya wonders how far it goes, if it spills across the planes of his torso, if it travels along his collarbones. Clearing his throat as if that’ll dispel the images of a broad chest flushed crimson currently overtaking his brain, he pushes as much conviction as he can into his voice. “Listen. Do you—” Oh. This is a tad bit harder than he thought it would be. His palms start sweating a little. “Do you, uh, have tattoos?”

Asahi tugs at the sleeves of his mustard yellow sweater. Yupp, the knit is the same color as the marigold arrangements at the front of the shop. Noya is really going to die. Asahi averts his gaze when he stutters out, “Um. Well. Yes.” 

The warmth pooling in the pit of his gut that feels a lot like hope emboldens him. “Do they look like mine?”

“Ah, well— that’s—” The tips of Asahi’s ears colour. He pauses for a moment, still doesn’t look at Noya. One, two, four breaths pass and Asahi finally makes eye contact with Noya. “I’d— I don’t like showing... them.”

Okay. He didn’t really answer the question, but...

It’s decidedly not a no. “Then why get them? Why go through all that pain if you’re not going to show people?” Noya hopes his voice comes out as casual as he’s trying to be with his heart jackhammering inside his ribcage.

Asahi’s lips quirk upward in a small smile. “I get them for myself. Because I like them.” He lets out a breath, a little huff, a little shuddery. His eyes drop down to Noya’s arm where the almost completed floral sleeve is tattooed on him, then trail back up to Noya’s face. “I like looking at them.”

“Oh.” That’s really cute. And Asahi is smiling a little, and Noya’s heart is doing that dangerous beating thing where it stutters inside his chest, and okay. Wow. Yeah. “Well. Okay then. I’ll just— I’m gonna go.”

Asahi tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear, revealing a row of piercings. Today, the jewelry is gold. Like the marigolds. And his sweater. “Okay. Have a good evening, Nishinoya-san.”

“Just Noya,” he says as he walks backward toward the door. He fights the urge to throw finger guns in Asahi’s direction. Barely.

The smile on Asahi’s face grows, revealing shiny, white teeth that Noya wouldn’t mind running his tongue against. “Right.”

~~

“What are you planning to do? Give yourself a stick-and-poke in his presence to see if he reacts?” Tanaka kicks his feet up onto the edge of the coffee table and takes a sip of his beer.

“You know what?” Noya tucks his legs under himself into a cross-legged position on the couch. “I’m sorry I ever called you dumb. That’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Noya, no.”

“Noya, yes!”

“Suga says you’ll pass out as soon as you see the needle,” Tanaka says. “And to not lie to yourself.”

Noya leans back on the couch to shout down the hallway. “Hey! I’m trying to have a private conversation with my bro, stay out of his head!”

“He says he’s not in my head, you’re just too loud.”

With a growl, Noya throws his head into Tanaka’s lap. “Maybe I should get Kuroo to tattoo something on my forehead. There’s no way he’d be able to cover that up.”

“Dude.” Tanaka threads his fingers through Noya’s hair, stroking through the strands as well as he can through the styling gel. “One, Kuroo has already said he refuses to tattoo you because you always pass out in the chair. Two, have you thought that maybe…” He trails off, but his fingers continue petting through Noya’s hair. 

Noya tilts his head back to look Tanaka in the face. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe… Maybe there’s a reason he hasn’t said anything.”

Oh. That’s. Noya sits up, keeping his eyes on Tanaka’s face. Tanaka refuses to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Tanaka sighs, rubbing a hand over his head. “He’s seen your tattoos, obviously. If— if you two are soulmates, he knows. But he hasn’t said anything. There has to be a reason, yeah?”

“What, like he doesn’t like me or something?”

“I-I don’t know, man. Some people have a hard time being told what to do by fate or whatever. Like, they don’t think destiny has any right to tell them what to do. Y’know, like Iwaizumi, when they first found out.”

“Right…” Noya drags the syllable out, unsure. Their situation was completely different— Daichi and Kuroo had been dating for years before they found Iwaizumi. Of course Iwaizumi was hesitant! How awkward, trying to join a couple that’s already been around for so long. This is so, so different. 

When he tells Tanaka so, he sighs again. People have been doing that around Noya a lot lately. “Look, bro, I don’t know. He’s obviously hung up on something.”

Noya huffs, crossing his arms and slouching down into the couch cushions. “Fine. He doesn’t believe in fate? I’ll just have to woo him the old-fashioned way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His oldest sister calls him first thing Sunday morning. 

"What," he all but growls into the phone. He glances at the clock on the microwave. 8:03. Too fucking early. 

"Yuu, my favourite brother in the whole wide universe," Yumi coos over the line. 

"I'm your only brother."

"Favourite sibling, then."

"We all know Ami is your favourite." Noya sighs, knowing this is going somewhere that's inevitably going to drag him out of bed. 

"Hm, she is the cutest out of all of you youngsters." 

Flinging the comforter from his body, Noya tosses his legs over the side of the bed. "What do you want at ass o'clock in the morning?"

The sound of a child wailing breeches the line. Noya can hear the pout in Yumi's voice when she says, "Well, you see, Saki's sitter called this morning and said they couldn't make it today—"

"I have to work today." 

Yumi sighs. Saki is still screaming in the background, but the sound has morphed into gleeful squeals instead of a distressed cry. "Yeah, but not until the afternoon, right?"

Noya bites his lip. He could lie and say he’s going in early because he does have plans before his shift starts at 1 involving coffee and a tall florist who really, really needs to roll up his sleeves for the sake of Noya’s sanity.

"C'mon, Yuu, please! Just for the morning. I already canceled my afternoon plans. I just have one appointment and then I have to go grocery shopping, and you know how Saki is when she's around a lot of people." 

“I have an errand I have to get done before I go in,” Noya says. He stands, stretching his arms high above his head, wincing when a few joints crack. 

Yumi gasps. “You mean you were planning on waking up before noon? Yuu, I’m so proud of you. You’re growing up.”

“Fuck you, I’m 27.” Noya pads to the fishtank. “But I do have plans, so I can’t watch Saki. Sorry.”

“What do you have to do? If it’s not somewhere crowded, she’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, it would be weird if I just show up with some kid.” He can already imagine the bewildered look on Asahi’s face when he walks through the door, hand-in-hand with a small child that looks like him. 

“Please, Yuu! Ami is out of town, and Makoto is working the morning shift, so you’re the only one she could go to. _Please.”_

Noya drops a palmful of fish food flakes into Jerry’s tank. “Fine. Can you drop her off here?”

~~

“I wanna hold your hand!” Saki whines, stomping her foot into the concrete of the sidewalk. 

Noya rolls his eyes. “You can hold my hand once we get to the shop, okay? Until then you can grab my shirt.”

His six-year-old niece juts her bottom lip out, pouting, but her hand fists in the hem of his shirt anyway. “Why do you even need two cups of coffee anyway? Is that why you’re so short?”

Noya stops abruptly, catching Saki so unaware she rams her face into his hip. “That’s just a myth. I’m short because your mom hit me so much when I was your age.” 

Saki gasps. “Mommy wouldn’t hit anyone!”

Scoffing, Noya takes a sip out of one of the cups in his hands. “For your information, one of these is for my—” he stops himself. Kids have a way of repeating everything you say, right? Okay. Better tread lightly. The last thing he needs is his big-mouthed niece to spook Asahi. “My friend.”

Apparently satisfied by that answer, Saki nods and starts humming a tune Noya thinks is the intro song to some cartoon as they make the walk to Petal Pushers.

Let Day 1 of Woo Asahi Until He Admits He’s Noya’s Soulmate commence!

~~

He didn’t think about the flower shop being busy.

Well. Busy might be a bit of an overstatement, but there are four people already inside when Noya steps into the shop with his niece in tow. At first he doesn’t see Asahi— only the few patrons and a short blonde girl wearing an apron and a nametag. _Yachi,_ it says. She’s pointing to a few of the arrangements set out in the corner of the shop and talking animatedly to one of the other customers.

Hm. He didn’t know anyone else worked here. 

The bell above the door must summon Asahi, because the next thing Noya knows, the man is opening the door behind the counter and stepping out of it, gaze turned to the ground. “Good morning, how can I—” Asahi stops mid-sentence when he lifts his eyes to the entrance. “Nishinoya-san?”

Noya grins. “Just Noya.”

“Right…” Asahi eyes the two cups of coffee in Noya’s hands wearily. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Alright. Be cool. Be smooth. Be suave. Noya walks the few paces to the counter. “Well, I was in the neighborhood, and the barista at the coffee shop gave me—”

“Uncle Yuu, what are those?” Saki nearly shouts, tugging at the hem of his shirt. She’s pointing to the front display of flower arrangements.

Noya barely resists the urge to scream. 

Startled, as if he hadn’t seen Saki at all, Asahi looks down at the girl.

Noya sets down the coffees on the counter and kneels down to Saki’s height. “Those are daisies.”

“Woah. They’re so pretty.” She turns away from Noya to press her nose against the glass of the display. 

Smiling apologetically, Noya looks up at Asahi and shrugs.

Asahi’s lips turn upward, and he lets out an amused huff. He reaches behind the counter to pluck a single daisy from one of the vases. He walks around the counter to the other side of Saki and bends over, holding out the flower. “Here.”

Saki looks at Asahi, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Slowly, she reaches out her tiny hand to grab the flower. She cradles it close to her chest, right over her heart. Noya pretends not to notice the way his heart squeezes at the sight.

“Take good care of it, okay?” Asahi smiles all the way to his eyes, and Noya can’t look away. 

Saki nods resolutely and reaches up with her left arm to take Noya’s hand. 

He obliges her, watching as Asahi rights himself and moves back to his place behind the counter. Today, Asahi’s hair is in a low bun again, a narrow band encircling his head. No sweater, but he’s wearing a crisp button up shirt, of course with long sleeves. Noya has to take a deep breath when he sees how much the material strains over his broad shoulders. 

Asahi fiddles with the edge of his sleeves again, drawing Noya’s attention to the daisy-shaped cufflinks securing the material together at his wrists. 

Fuck.

This isn’t how he planned for today to go— not the other people here, not having Saki with him, not being interrupted in the middle of his elaborate story about the kind barista giving him an extra coffee because they were feeling generous. 

“S-so.” Asahi clears his throat. “You… you said you were in the neighborhood?”

Noya straightens, pushing his shoulders back. Maybe he can just brush it off without the whole story. He can’t really remember the whole thing, not when his brain is now filled with the image of Asahi’s extremely form fitting shirt stretching over his pecs. “Yeah. This is for you.” He looks down at the disposable cups now sitting on the counter, hand poised to push one toward Asahi.

But he can’t remember which one he’s taken a drink from. 

Oh, _God._

It’s fine. Totally fine. He only took a single sip from one of them. It’s not like— not like Asahi will be able to tell if he slides the wrong one across the counter. It’s only, like, an indirect kiss that Noya will have to go the rest of his life thinking about— oh shit, he’ll have to take this to his grave. 

Fuck. 

When in doubt, go left, right?

So he pushes forward the left cup. 

Asahi’s breath catches audibly in his throat. “Oh,” he says, extending a hand toward the offering. “Th-that’s kind of you. You really didn’t have to—”

“I know.” Noya grins. “I wanted to. See you around, Asahi-san.” Tugging on Saki’s hand in his, Noya moves toward the door. 

“Just Asahi is fine!” Asahi calls from behind him. 

Noya turns his head back toward the other man and sees a rosy flush spread across his cheeks again. “Alright. See you around, Asahi.”

Thank god his hands are occupied so he can’t send Asahi finger guns, because the urge is even stronger today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay. Day 1 of Woo Asahi Until He Admits He’s Noya’s Soulmate didn’t go quite as planned. That’s okay. Today is Monday. He has the day off. 

Time for Day 2 of Woo Asahi Until He Admits He’s Noya’s Soulmate.

~~

Daichi looks at him with a grimace on his face, clearly unimpressed. 

Noya ignores him, continuing in his task of tuning the guitar in his lap. 

“C’mon, Daichi, don’t be such a stick in the mud. It’s for _love,”_ Suga chimes in, ever the gracious. “And our morning rush is already over, so there’s no harm in him taking up some space in the corner.”

“Is that all I am to you? Just a waste of space?” Noya asks, fingers twisting the knob of the E string. “Some friends you are.”

This has to work. Asahi will walk into The Bird’s Nest to deliver the daily flowers, see Noya strumming away at his guitar, and be so impressed it’ll be physically impossible for him not to fall at Noya’s feet. Preferably with his sleeves rolled up, so Noya can shut up those stupid whispers in the back of his brain constantly assaulting him with doubt. 

With a final strum, he calls the guitar sufficiently tuned. He starts playing a song with a simple Em7 chord, switching to G, D, A, C.

Across the cafe, Daichi groans. He whispers, albeit not that quietly, to Suga, “He’s playing _Wonderwall._ _Wonderwall,_ Suga. I can’t.”

Noya tucks his chin into his chest to hide his smirk. 

He hears the entrance swing open, and he has to tell his heart to calm the fuck down because it might not even be— 

“Asahi! Oh, they’re lovely!” Suga’s over-excited voice carries across the dining room. 

So it is. It is Asahi. 

Noya keeps his head facing downward, strumming through the intro chord progression of, yes, Wonderwall. Keeping it totally casual. Totally cool. Cool as a pickle. 

"Are those peonies? Oh, how pretty. Daichi, look at them."

Noya thinks of the peony inked into his kneecap, all shades of watered down pink spread across his skin. That one hurt extra horribly, and he was on the train when he passed out. 

But as he peeks through his lashes to catch a glimpse of Asahi pushing a cart full of floral centerpieces across the dining room, he can't help but think that all the pain was worth it, if it's put Asahi in his life.

Asahi hasn't noticed him yet, and that's fine. This way, Noya can continue gazing at the object of his affections, and damn is he especially cute today. His hair is left down, slightly curled at the ends, and his glasses are back. Noya sees the peony arrangements— they're simple, just a few of the pink flowers in a low vase filled halfway with water— and sure enough, Asahi has matched his top to them. But… 

He's wearing a sweater vest. 

A _sweater vest_.

This dork, this man that makes Noya’s palms sweat and his heart race and his stomach flutter, is wearing a desaturated pink sweater vest over a simple white long sleeve button up, and the bastard still looks so good that Noya wants to take a picture of him and make it his phone wallpaper. 

Life is really, really unfair.

"Is this…" Asahi stops when he reaches the front counter. "Is this Wonderwall?" He turns his head to look in Noya’s direction. 

Noya shifts his eyes back to his guitar. Cool, very cool. 

"Nishinoya-san?" 

At the sound of Asahi addressing him, Noya lifts his head. Slowly. He blinks up at Asahi from a few feet away. “Oh. Hey, Asahi,” he says as casually as he can. “Just Noya is fine.”

Suga snorts, and Daichi coughs loudly into his fist. 

“Oh, um, right.” Asahi shifts his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. “Hi.”

Over Asahi’s shoulder, Suga mimes shoving a finger in his throat and gagging, and Daichi pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. 

Good to know his friends are so supportive. 

“I-I didn’t know you played guitar,” Asahi says quietly, lifting one of the vases from the cart and walking to the table nearest Noya. 

Noya’s eyes follow Asahi as he gently places the centerpiece onto the table, padding the glass with his pinky so it doesn’t make much noise. _Cute._ “Yeah,” Noya says, continuing to strum through the song. “It’s a hobby more than anything.”

“It’s always good to have hobbies.” Asahi smiles warmly at him, and it’s barely more than a small quirk in his lips, but _god._

Noya still feels his heart clench at the sight.

“This is one of my favourite songs,” Asahi says in a quiet rush of breath, far enough away from the two cafe owners at the other side of the dining room that they don’t seem to hear him. With a parting nod, Asahi moves back to the cart and continues unloading the arrangements, and Suga and Daichi thankfully return to their regular dorky selves instead of the making-fun-of-Noya kind. 

_Please let me see your tattoos._

The thought crosses his mind without his intent, honest. He immediately remembers what Tanaka said— _He’s obviously hung up on something—_ and does everything in his power to forget that train of thought entirely. 

Tanaka is right, probably, for once in his life. 

He still knows, deep down, that there’s basically no chance he and Asahi _aren’t_ soulmates. They’re definitely connected. He doesn’t need to see the tattoos to explain the weird heart palpitations and blood rush he gets every time he sees Asahi’s face.

When— if— Asahi ever wants to tell him, wants to admit it, he’ll be here. Until then, he’ll take what he can get. 

(And he knows he can get Asahi to fall in love with him.)

“What do peonies mean?” Suga asks, leaning over the front counter with a wink in Noya’s direction. 

Asahi sets down the last centerpiece and sends Noya a fleeting glance over his shoulder. He turns to Suga and says, “They mean lots of things. Uh, prosperity, good fortune, compassion.”

“Anything else?” Uh oh. That tone of voice from Suga is never good. 

Asahi’s eyes dart to Noya’s, his cheeks tinted a dusty rose colour, and back to Suga’s. “R-romance.” He clears his throat. “B-but also bashfulness.”

It’s suddenly a lot harder to get his fingers to move the way he wants them to over the frets of his guitar.

“A-anyway, um, that’s all of them for today.”

“Do you want a coffee to go?” Daichi asks, because he is polite and also apparently wants to foil Noya’s plans. 

Asahi chuckles lightly. “Ah, ye—”

“Asahi!” Noya shouts and his voice comes out way too loud for the small dining room, so loud even he winces internally at the volume. 

Startled, all three men at the counter avert their attention to Noya. 

It’s okay. He can recover. He’s cool. He’s chill. He lifts a hand from the instrument in his lap and flicks his bangs out of his face. Nonchalant. “You open at 9 today, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Cool. I’ll be there with your coffee.” Noya turns back to his guitar, forcing his fingers through the motion of a few chords that don’t really make sense together but it’s the best he can do because his hands won’t stop trembling. 

He can’t see what’s happening across the cafe. He doesn’t really want to, either. But he hears some shuffling, an awkward goodbye, and then the door opens, closes, signalling Asahi’s exit. 

Noya lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“That was…” Daichi starts, trailing off. 

“Painfully awkward? A complete trainwreck to watch? Not subtle at all? Take your pick, Dai.”

“Kind of adorable?” Daichi says like a question. 

Suga makes a fake gagging sound.

~~

The bell hanging above the door alerts Asahi of his arrival. 

The man looks up from the book he has spread open on the counter next to the register. Blinking, he breathes out, “Oh. Nishinoya.”

“Just Noya.” Noya walks over to the counter. 

(Is his walk weird? Oh god, does he have a limp that no one’s told him about? Does he turn his feet in all wonky? It’s only, like, ten steps. He needs to calm the fuck down. He doubts a weird walk is a dealbreaker, anyway.)

He turns up the megawatt smile on his face as he sets down a to-go cup from The Bird’s Nest next to the book Asahi’s been reading. “Your coffee.”

Asahi blinks down at the cup a few times. Slowly, he folds the corner of the page he’s on and shuts the cover of the book. “Thank you,” he says, cradling the coffee between his hands.

Silence encompasses them, washing over the distance between them for a few moments. Noya sees the peony arrangements in the front display case. He wishes he wore shorts that didn’t fall below his knee, didn’t cover up the tattoo there. Normally he’d try to fill the quiet with a joke or maybe a story about some stupid thing he did, but Asahi is looking at Noya like a rabbit staring down a fox that’s about to eat it. He’s not usually one to doubt himself, but… "Does it bother you that I come by?" 

Asahi's cheeks light up a shade of pink that perfectly matches the colour of his damn _sweater vest._ "N-No. I-I don’t mind."

A grin spreads across Noya’s face. "Keep talkin' like that and you could give a guy the wrong idea, Asahi." He winks for good measure.

The flush on Asahi's face deepens and he tries to hide it by taking a sip of his coffee, but Noya is already attuned to catching and holding onto whatever glimpse of Asahi's blush he can manage. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He brings Asahi coffee every day the rest of the week. 

He’s been falling asleep before 3 am every night because he has to wake up so damn early to make it to Petal Pushers right as Asahi flips the CLOSED sign to OPEN. Jerry is getting used to being fed by 8:30 every morning, and Noya knows as soon as he and Asahi are finally together he’s inevitably going to fall back into the old routine of waking up at noon and Jerry will hate him. 

But whatever. Getting to see Asahi flash that tiny smile over the lip of the disposable coffee cup Noya hands him is worth any minor setbacks in his father-son relationship with his goldfish. 

And, oh, there’s the time Asahi laughs when Noya fails to push down the finger gun impulse.

(Noya wants to bottle the sound. Record it, fall asleep to it.)

On Friday, as he slides Asahi’s coffee— with a two-second pour of sugar and a three-second pour of cream, Noya’s learned— across the counter, Asahi’s fingers brush against the back of Noya’s hand and he really, really might die right here, in the middle of Petal Pushers. 

Asahi’s smile is extra blinding today, as he shakes his head fondly down at Noya. “Suga told me something very interesting this morning.”

“What did that traitor say? Whatever it is, it’s totally not true! He’s always out to get me—”

Asahi chuckles, and it’s full-bodied and deep and rumbles out of that wide, wide chest Noya hasn’t stopped imagining resting his head against since he saw Asahi for the first time a week ago. “No, it was nothing bad.”

“Oh. Good.” Noya takes a sip from his own coffee. 

“He just…” Asahi bites his lip. Cute. “He told me you get all your drinks at The Bird’s Nest for free. So you’ve been giving me coffee you didn’t have to pay for all week.”

Hot coffee splashes up Noya’s nose as he splutters into his cup. “Wh— the brat!”

Asahi bites down on his lip harder, and Noya thinks he might be holding back a laugh. He manages to keep a straight face when he says, “And here I thought I was worth at least the price of a cup of coffee.”

“Are you—” Noya sets down his drink. “Are you _teasing_ me, Asahi?”

Asahi shrugs nonchalantly, raising his cup to his lips. Before he takes a sip, Noya sees the barest hint of a smile. 

Noya huffs. “Fine. The coffee has been free.”

Eyes widening, Asahi stutters, “I-It’s okay, you don’t have to get me anything at all—”

“But! You know what isn’t?”

When Noya doesn’t elaborate, Asahi shakes his head, brow rising in question. 

“A home cooked meal by yours truly.”

Asahi blinks. Once. Twice. “W-What?”

Oh yes, Noya is always a fan of turning the tables. He grins. “Do you have any plans after the store closes today?”

Asahi shakes his head. 

“Good.” Noya pulls out the sticky note he’s been keeping in his pocket since Wednesday, placing it on the counter between them. “Here’s my number. Text me when you’re closing up and I’ll send you my address. Come ready for the best meal of your life.”

And because he is an absolute idiot who has to ruin every good moment he has, Noya sends Asahi double finger guns before he picks up his coffee and walks out of Petal Pushers.

~~

It’s not until he gets back to his apartment from the market that the thought crosses his mind. 

He really hopes Asahi isn’t allergic to shellfish.

He doesn’t have a way of finding out without going back to the flower shop because Asahi still hasn’t texted him. He contemplates making the twenty minute walk there, but that would be weird, right? He’ll just… make the damn scallops, and pray Asahi doesn’t go into anaphylactic shock at his dining table. 

Perfect plan, Noya. 

He fumbles and fidgets around his apartment the rest of the day, resolutely doing anything besides checking his phone for new notifications. There’s the stack of weekly shonen magazines shoved under his nightstand to catch up on, and that docuseries Tanaka recommended to him a few weeks ago. 

At exactly 6pm, Noya’s phone buzzes against the surface of his nightstand. 

Keeping it cool as hell, Noya definitely doesn’t lunge over the back of the couch to yank his phone off its charger, definitely doesn’t mess up the PIN to unlock it three times, definitely doesn’t feel his pulse speed up. 

_[18:00] >> I closed the store. _

It’s not anything special, but Noya feels the air inside his lungs leave him with a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat. 

_[18:01] >> This is Asahi, by the way. _ _  
_ _[18:01] >> I probably should have led with that. _

Ugh. He’s too fucking _cute._

Noya types out his address and sends it, adding a few heart emojis at the end. Y’know. For reasons.

He heaves himself up from the couch and pulls a few ingredients from the pantry. He can make the salad dressing now, get everything prepped, and when Asahi gets here they’ll talk until they’re hungry and it will be perfect and Noya won’t burn his thumb on the stove like he usually does.

Once everything is sufficiently diced and mixed, Noya looks down at himself. He’s still wearing the stained cargo shorts from earlier, and a shirt so threadbare he probably should’ve thrown it out a few years ago. 

Shit. 

He glances at the clock in the kitchen and sees that it’s already 6:22. If Asahi is coming directly from the flower shop, he’ll be here any minute.

Fuck. 

He flings open the middle drawer of his dresser with a small sliver of hope that there’s a clean shirt in here without a stupid saying on it. He digs for a minute, pulling away victorious with a deep purple v-neck he thinks one of his sisters gave him for his birthday last year. He grabs a pair of black skinny jeans from the back of his closet and does his darndest not to mess up his hair as he changes. 

No sooner than Noya pulls the zipper of his jeans in place does a knock sound at his door. 

The way his heart hammers against his ribcage is completely out of his control. And so is the sweat building up in the palms of his hands. 

Taking a steadying breath, Noya pads over to the front door and swings it open and, wow is he glad he took that breath a second ago because it very well might be his last. 

Asahi is standing in his doorway with his hair pulled up into a messy bun, wearing a heather gray sweatshirt that hugs all the curves of his body so well and jeans that emphasize the thighs Noya hasn’t before now gotten a good look at. Honestly he could stare at them all day, but Asahi’s quiet voice pulls his attention up to his face. “Um, I brought wine.” Asahi holds out a bottle of Chardonnay. “I-I wasn’t sure what you’re cooking, but I thought a white would probably be okay with pretty much anything?”

“Oh.” Noya can’t say anything else right now, so he takes the bottle from Asahi and gestures for him to come inside. 

With a small, nervous smile Asahi walks into the genkan and bends over to take his shoes off and really, it’s not Noya’s fault that his gaze is drawn to his ass— it’s right there, and, wow, okay, yeah, Noya is gonna need a second. 

Life has truly blessed him.

Asahi steps into Noya’s apartment proper, and Noya takes a moment to collect himself. He’s cool. He’s chill. Yeah, Asahi is stupidly hot and he’s _in Noya’s apartment_ and he brought fucking wine like a real-life adult and he’s wearing socks that have embroidered kittens all over them— but Noya’s good. He’s good.

Noya walks over to the kitchen and pulls open the fridge to let the wine chill before they eat. When he turns around to ask Asahi if he’s hungry yet, he sees Asahi looking down at Jerry’s tank with a wondrous look on his face.

“You… have a pet goldfish?”

Noya grins. “Yupp. His name is Jerry.”

Asahi is quiet, which isn’t that unusual, but he’s staring at the fishtank like he’s never seen one before. 

“Is there somethin’ wrong with having a pet fish?”

“W— No, of course not. I just… didn’t think _you_ would have one.”

“No?”

“No, I pictured you with a dog. A really big one. Or maybe one of those really tiny, yippy ones. Something with a lot of energy.”

Noya chuckles. “I got Jerry when I graduated. After high school, I travelled a lot. It’s way easier to find a pet sitter for a fish than a dog. Plus, fish don’t get as lonely as bigger pets.”

“You travelled? Where?”

“All over. Want some tea?” 

Asahi nods and Noya gestures for him to take a seat at his kitchen table as he pulls his kettle out of a cabinet. He has to suppress the laugh building in his throat at how miniscule the wooden chair looks under Asahi’s giant frame.

“Sorry it’s so small. I just came back permanently a few months ago, so I haven’t had time to find a better place.” As if to prove his point, the faucet decides to make a horrific demon noise when Noya opens the tap to fill the kettle. He smacks the handle until it stops the screeching, grinding thing. “See? This place rips ass. It was fine when I’d only be here for a week or two and then leave again, but now I kinda want a sink that doesn’t try to possess me every time I use it.”

Sitting at Noya’s impossibly small kitchen table that barely has enough surface area for two plates, Asahi has this constipated look on his face, like he’s torn between being completely mortified and laughing his ass off. 

Fuck. Noya’s going to have to expand his vocabulary beyond the word _cute_ to describe Asahi.

Noya pulls out two mugs from the top cabinet— the one with the cartoon map of the Great Barrier Reef he got during his most recent trip to Brisbane, and the one he may or may not have stolen from the really nice hotel he stayed at in Seattle— and rifles through a drawer for the fancy green tea he only makes when he has guests.

“Where have you travelled to?” Asahi asks again. 

Noya hums thoughtfully as the kettle clicks off. “Where haven’t I been is probably an easier question to answer.” He pours some steaming water into both mugs. “Sugar? Honey?”

“Ah, no, thank you.” Asahi nods his head in thanks as he takes the Barrier Reef mug from Noya’s grasp. “What’s your favourite place you’ve been to, then?”

“Vancouver, probably,” Noya says as he pulls out the chair opposite Asahi. He plops down into the seat, setting his tea down. 

“Canada?” Asahi asks over the rim of his mug. 

“Yeah. It was the last stop on my really first long trip. I went in April, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. They reminded me of home right as I was starting to feel homesick.” Smiling at the memory, Noya takes a sip of his tea. “I’ve been a few times since. There’s so much to see— it’s crazy how beautiful it is. There’s forests _and_ mountains _and_ beaches.”

Asahi smiles, and Noya’s heart does that stupid skipping a beat thing again. “Sounds lovely.”

_Not as lovely as you,_ he wants to say. But he swallows down the words, instead choosing to say, “What about you? Have you gone anywhere cool?”

“No. I’ve never left Japan. I don’t even have a passport.”

Slamming his open palms down on the table, Noya gasps. “No way! Let me take you somewhere. Oh, I haven’t been to Egypt yet! Let’s go there!”

Noya’s heart comes to a full stop when Asahi laughs, full and bright and deep. A wide smile crosses his face, and Noya really, really wants to kiss him. 

Instead, Noya laughs along with him. 

Once he’s able to catch his breath again, Asahi cups his mug between his palms and says, “Okay, let’s do it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Asahi! I’ll really take us to Egypt.”

“I’d go anywhere you take me.” As soon as the words leave his lips, Asahi’s cheeks flush a brilliant shade of red Noya hasn’t seen on a human before. “I— I mean—” he starts to backtrack, like he didn’t mean to say it in the first place.

There’s a snowball’s chance in hell Noya will ever forget those words. Noya grins, ignoring the way his stomach is fluttering like the wings of those butterflies in the bug exhibit Suga took him to a few weeks ago. “I’ll gladly take you on a tour of the world.”

Noya will never get over the thrill of seeing Asahi’s blush spread to the tips of his ears.

“Well. Are you hungry, Asahi?”

~~

They talk about the weather while Noya sears the scallops and tosses the salad. They bond over their mutual love for K-dramas between sips of wine. They tell each other horror stories about their respective older siblings as they spear bites of cake from the dessert dish Noya sets between them on the couch. They laugh together as Noya recounts all the embarrassing things that have happened to him in airport terminals.

They’re both shocked when they see that it’s already past 9:30. 

“Oh, I should probably get home,” Asahi says, standing from the couch. 

Noya fights the urge to frown. “Right. Yeah, no, totally.” He follows Asahi’s lead, standing and walking with the man to the door. He watches on as Asahi slips his shoes over the kitten socks on his feet.

(They were apparently a gift from his nephew.)

(Noya likes that he knows that, now.)

“Noya, I—” Asahi stands in the doorway, wringing his fingers together. “Was this a date?”

Oh. Was it? Noya thinks that maybe it was, that he really really wants it to be because that means he could maybe just lean up on his toes and steal a kiss from Asahi before he goes. But he’s still trying to play it cool, so he says, “If you want it to be.”

Asahi huffs out a small laugh. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Well, I didn’t say it was a date when I asked you to come over.” Noya lifts a finger to his chin. “So if it makes you uncomfortable to think of it that way, then no, it wasn’t a date. But, hypothetically, if you weren’t uncomfortable with it being a date, I’m not opposed either.”

“That’s… That’s a lot of negatives in one sentence.”

“So?”

Asahi separates his hands, letting them fall limply to his sides. “So what?”

“Was it a date?”

The smile that fries Noya’s brain every time slips back into place on Asahi’s unfairly beautiful face. “Yeah. I’d like it if it was a date.”

It’s only natural that a sharp grin plasters itself to Noya’s face. “Was it at least a good date?”

Tucking a fallen piece of hair behind his ear, the one with the piercings, Asahi nods, and _shit_ his blush is really fucking cute. 

Now would be the perfect time to do it, to kiss him here in the pitiful genkan of Noya’s apartment. But there’s some weird tension hanging over Asahi, and it doesn’t feel right. “Is something wrong?”

Asahi’s shoulders jump slightly. “Ah, it’s— it’s nothing, really.”

Noya frowns. “It’s obviously bothering you. So what’s up?”

“It’s—” Asahi sighs. “It’s— you asked me about my t-tattoos, before. I— it’s—”

“You don’t have to tell me anything!” Lifting a hand to shush Asahi, Noya shakes his head. “You don’t have to show me. It’s fine. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Slowly, Asahi nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Asahi lets out a shuddery breath. “I had a really nice time today, Noya.”

“I did, too. Would you wanna make this a repeat performance?”

Crimson, bright and vibrant, splashes across Asahi’s cheeks and the tip of his nose. “Y-yeah. I’d like that.” 

Noya still wants to kiss Asahi, wants to press his lips into the flushed skin of his face, but it still doesn’t feel right, so he pushes open his front door. “I’ll text you. Now that I have your number, you’re never gonna have another moment of silence.”

Asahi flashes Noya a brilliant smile so wide it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “That’s more than okay with me.” And with that, he steps through Noya’s door and back into the outside world. 

Noya shuts the door behind the other man and turns around, leaning his back against the cold metal. He slowly sinks down to the floor, letting his knees bend into his chest. 

It’s Day 6 of Woo Asahi Until He Admits He’s Noya’s Soulmate, and he thinks he needs to change the name of the plan.

~~

_[21:47] << text me when you get home, kk? _

_[22:06] >> I’m home. _

_[22:06] << u know what i just realized? _

_[22:09] >> What? _

_[22:10] << i dont know ur family name _

_[22:10] >> Azumane. _

_[22:11] << azumane asahi _ _  
_ _[22:15] << azumane asahi + nishinoya yuu _ _  
_ _[22:15] << :) _

_[22:22] >> :) _

~~~~~~~~~

They’re _dating_ now. Asahi says so himself, when Noya comes by Petal Pushers on Saturday to deliver Asahi’s daily coffee. 

“You don’t have to keep… you know. Bringing me coffee.”

“Do you not want to see my face every morning, Asahi? I’m hurt.” Noya pouts exaggeratedly. 

“N-no! That’s not it. It’s— uh, well. We’re… dating, now. You don’t have to try to win me over anymore. Or… whatever.”

_Oh._

_Dating._

Noya’s face splits into a grin. “All the more reason to bring you your daily dose of caffeine, yeah? It’s like a mini-date everyday.”

Asahi’s cheeks flush vermillion, not unlike the red of the rose petals in the display case.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Noya’s never been a fan of school. Academia hasn’t exactly been a welcoming place for him and his constant need to fidget and move. He’s never liked learning. 

But he can’t learn enough about Asahi. 

(He thinks about starting a notebook of the things he knows about Asahi, if only so he can figure out what he _doesn’t_ know so he can ask about it all later. Tanaka laughs at him when he mentions it over a half-empty bottle of vodka one night and he feels heat rise to his cheeks and he throws out the idea.)

He knows Asahi’s favourite colour is orange, that he had a pet cat when he was a kid and missed two weeks of school when it died in his second year of high school because he was so sad about it. (Cute. Sad, but cute.) He learns that Asahi lives in a small apartment above Petal Pushers, and that he just moved to this neighborhood about a month ago when he signed the lease for the storefront. Asahi tells him that his favourite food is miso soup because he likes the way it makes his belly feel warm. (Also cute.)

In return, Noya tells him about how he got his job at the skate shop even though he can’t balance on a board to save his life. (Asahi snorts water out of his nose at this fact, and Noya’s lungs nearly shrivel up with how hard he laughs.) He tells Asahi about the time he got suspended in high school for climbing a tree even though he was just trying to help a cat get down from the top branch. (The soft way Asahi says _How valiant of you_ makes Noya’s heart skip a beat.) He regales the tale of scooping Jerry out of the pet store tank with his bare hands because the employee couldn’t capture him with a net. ( _It was so slimy. Nasty._ Asahi laughs and says _I can’t believe goldfish live for so long.)_

All the while, Asahi continues wearing sweaters and long sleeved shirts and jeans (and leggings, the time Noya insists on pulling an all-nighter to binge Boys Over Flowers because how could Asahi have not seen it?) and before long, Noya stops thinking about seeing whatever Asahi might have tattooed on his skin underneath all that clothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been two weeks since their first date. Three weeks since Noya first saw Asahi through the window of Petal Pushers. Noya knows what it feels like to nod off against Asahi’s shoulder, knows what it’s like to thread his fingers through Asahi’s, knows how his stomach flips when he gets Asahi to laugh.

It’s a nice night, the first one of the season that gets just a bit chilly once the sun starts to set, a quiet warning that autumn is coming. The park has cleared completely, leaving the two of them to chew the cucumber sandwiches Noya made earlier that morning in peace. 

Asahi compliments his culinary skills, and Noya says slicing bread and slathering mayo is hardly a skill. 

He takes a grape between his fingers and pops it in his mouth. They still haven’t talked about Asahi’s tattoos. It doesn’t really matter, he knows, because he’s sure no one else could make his brain go all fuzzy like Asahi does whenever he’s around. But every once in a while, Noya will catch Asahi staring at one of Noya’s tattoos with a weird look in his eyes and his shoulders drawn up all tight and tense, and Noya needs Asahi to know that he doesn’t care about the tattoos anymore.

“Do you know why I walked into your shop that first day?” Noya asks, and his voice sounds too loud and weird in the middle of the quiet calm around them. 

If he notices, Asahi doesn’t say anything, just smiles lightly and says, “Because you walked in on Suga and Tanaka, right?”

Noya shakes his head. “No. I saw you the day before. You’d already closed the shop for the day and I think you were checking something in the register. And I knew you were my soulmate, so I had to talk to you.”

“O-oh.” It’s barely more than a rush of breath.

“But you know what, Asahi?”

Noya’s eyes are trained on the way Asahi’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “W-what?”

He finds Asahi’s eyes again. “I don't even care if you're not my soulmate.”

Eyes widening, Asahi says, breathless, “What changed?”

“I dunno, really. But getting to know you has been so much fun! It's crazy how easy it is to talk to you, like I wanna tell you my entire life story. And I wanna hear yours! Even though it kinda feels like I've known you for forever. God that sounds so cheesy. But I swear, it doesn't even matter if we're fated to be together or whatever, because I want to be with you—”

Something incredible happens. Something Noya had never, not even once, thought could happen. 

Asahi literally shuts Noya up with a kiss.

A hand that's just as broad and big and wide as he’s fantasized cups the side of Noya’s face, pulling Noya forward. Callused fingers brush so gently along his cheekbone and Asahi’s lips are a little dry as they press against Noya’s, but that doesn’t stop Noya’s heart from running a marathon in his chest, doesn’t deter Noya from fisting his hand into the collar of Asahi’s sweater and pressing back with as much fervor as can.

It’s just a press of their mouths, nothing more, but it completely short circuits Noya’s brain all the same. 

Too soon, Asahi pulls away slightly, but keeps his face close enough that Noya feels his breath against his lips. Noya draws in air, the motion ragged and shuddery. 

"Do you— do you mean it?"

"Mean what?" He really can't remember what he said. All he knows is he rambled about something or other and then Asahi’s mouth was on his and now his blood is pumping through his veins so hard and his head feels light and cottony and he really, really wants to taste the inside of Asahi's mouth. 

"That you… that you want to be with me. Soulmate or not."

Noya blinks slowly. Really, how goddamn oblivious could this man be? “Of course I want to be with you, Asahi. You’re, like, the coolest person I’ve ever met. And seeing you is always the best part of my day. It’s totally worth getting up at ass o’clock in the morning to bring you coffee— you’re worth it.”

“Noya, I…” Asahi breathes, face still only a few inches away from Noya’s. “I have to tell you something.”

Noya loosens his grip on Asahi’s collar, sliding his hand to the back of Asahi’s neck. The baby hairs slipping out of Asahi’s bun tickle the skin of his knuckles. “Anything.”

“You— we— um.” Asahi inhales deeply, and Noya relishes in the way they’re so close he can feel Asahi’s chest move with the effort. “The reason I don’t show my tattoos is because… w-well.”

Leaving his hand on the nape of Asahi’s neck, Noya pulls back far enough to get a good look at Asahi’s face. “You don’t have to—”

“No, I want to. It’s just…” 

Noya rests his free hand over Asahi’s knee. 

Asahi takes another breath, releasing the air through his lips slowly. “This is gonna sound really stupid.”

“You could never sound stupid to me.” Noya gives his knee a reassuring squeeze. “Promise.”

“It’s— well. I… For a long time, I didn’t think anyone could like me, romantically, unless they knew we were soulmates. I know it’s— it’s not— _nice,_ but I’ve always been… insecure, I guess.” Asahi huffs. “But when I got older, I realized that I— I don’t want someone to like me just because we’re soulmates. I want someone to like me for me, not for the tattoos we share. So I started wearing clothes that covered my tattoos. So if— when— I met my soulmate, they wouldn’t even know. So they wouldn’t fall in love with the tattoos instead of me.”

Oh. That’s. Wow. That’s. That makes a lot of sense. “Um.” Noya can’t finish a thought, let alone a sentence. 

Asahi’s lips turn up at the corners into a smile, small but sincere. “So it means a lot that you said you want me regardless of the soulmate… thing.”

Oh. Yeah. Right. He did say that, yupp. 

“But, Noya?”

“Yeah, Asahi?” Noya swears he can hear his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.

The smile on Asahi’s face grows at least ten sizes. “We are soulmates.”

Before Noya can fully process the words, Asahi tugs up the right sleeve of his sweater, just far enough for Noya to see the vibrant sunflower tattooed on his forearm. 

It looks exactly like the one on Noya’s skin. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes out. “Holy shit!” he shouts. “Holy shit, Asahi!” He leaps up from the blanket spread on the ground, lifting his hands to his head. “Holy fuck, I knew I was right!”

Asahi chuckles and pulls his sweater back down. “Yeah, I guess you were.”

Noya falls to his knees in front of Asahi and grips the front of his sweater in both hands. “You bastard! Do you know how many times I’ve passed out in public because of you?”

Confusion passes over Asahi’s features. “What?”

“The pain!” Noya shakes Asahi in his grasp. “God, these fuckers hurt so much! I passed out in the middle of an exam once, you know!”

Asahi opens and closes his mouth a few times, obviously struggling to find the right words. “I don’t— what pain?”

“Are you—” Tilting his head, Noya lets go of Asahi. “Are you kidding me? We have a special bond. The pain of getting tattooed— I’ve always felt it. Did you not when I got this?” Noya lifts his leg and points to the shitty smiley face inked into the skin of his ankle.

Shaking his head, Asahi says, “No, I was asleep when you got it. I remember waking up and feeling something weird near my foot, but it didn’t hurt enough to wake me up in the middle of the night or anything. Besides, I, uh…” Asahi trails off, his gaze averting from Noya’s. 

“You what?”

“I, uh… I don’t really think tattoos hurt all that much when I get them.”

Noya scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well isn’t that nice. Meanwhile, I literally fall unconscious—”

“Oh god,” Asahi interrupts, his face shifting into the perfect picture of clarity, the dawn of understanding. “Oh god, w-wait. So you mean… you felt _all_ of them?”

Nodding emphatically, Noya huffs. 

“I have— there are so many!”

“Oh, I know how many there are, trust me.” 

Leaning forward, Asahi cups Noya’s cheeks between his hands. “I am _so sorry,_ Noya!”

Noya’s arms fall limply at his sides as he feels the warmth of Asahi’s palms on his face. “D-don’t be sorry, jeez.”

“I swear, I’ll tell you when I’m about to get a new one so you can take some painkillers before.”

Noya nods. His eyes are glued to Asahi’s mouth. 

Fuck. They’re soulmates. 

Like, for sure. He’s always known, but… to hear it from Asahi, to actually know… 

Wow. 

“We’re soulmates, Asahi,” he says, because it’s true. Because he can.

“Yeah,” Asahi breathes out. “We’re soulmates.”

Noya swallows past the lump forming in his throat, blinks back the tears threatening to form in his eyes. “Asahi.”

“Noya.”

“Can I…” Noya wills the tremble in his voice to disappear. “Can I see them?”

“The tattoos? Of course—”

“All of them.”

Pink blooms along Asahi’s cheeks, spreads across his nose, reaches all the way to the tips of his ears. “Y-yeah.”

~~

There’s something about seeing the tattoos he sees on his own body every day on someone else’s skin. In all his wildest dreams, his most fanciful imaginings, he never once thought this is what his soulmate would look like. Big, sturdy, wide at the shoulders, built like a goddamn truck— covered in the softest, daintiest watercolour prints of flowers that mean things like rebirth, innocence, devotion. 

In the weeks he’s come to know Asahi, he thinks that they all suit him. It all makes sense. He couldn’t imagine anything else forever imprinted on his tawny skin. The petals painted up his strong forearm, the stems crawling up his calf, the tiny blossom etched into the dip of his hipbone where Noya thinks his thumb would fit perfectly— they’re all tiny pieces that make up _Asahi._

It's all laid out in front of him—Asahi is laid out before him, sprawled atop Noya’s bedsheets wearing nothing but the ink stained on his skin. 

He takes his time unravelling Asahi, worshipping him. He presses open-mouthed kisses to each tattoo and tells Asahi where he was, what he was doing, who it was that shook him awake when Asahi got it. He runs the pad of his forefinger over the smiley face on Asahi’s ankle and says sorry for putting it there, but Asahi just smiles up at him and tells him it’s his favourite.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


[BONUS]

Fingers trail nonsensical doodles over the junction of his neck and shoulder, leaving warmth in their wake. A steady heartbeat pounds in his ears, and for once it’s not his own. 

He was right about Asahi’s chest being the perfect place to rest his head. 

“Hey, Noya,” Asahi whispers, voice a breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. 

Noya grunts in response, mind still too far away in the midst of afterglow to form a full sentence. 

“So… You know how I said I’d tell you when I’m getting another tattoo?”

Noya nods against the warm skin of Asahi’s bare chest. 

“Well, I’m getting one tomorrow.”

Startled out of his post-coital stupor, Noya sits up, pushing the heel of his palm into Asahi’s stomach and earning himself a muffled grunt. “Hold up. Where?”

“Uh, the back of my arm. I’m finishing the sleeve—”

“No, not where on your body. What shop are you getting it done at?”

“Oh.” Asahi lifts Noya’s arm from where it’s jabbing him in the gut. “The place I usually go, Black Cat? It was kinda far from my last place, but now—”

“It’s only a few blocks away from your apartment,” Noya interrupts. That rat _bastard!_

“Uh, yeah. I thought— how did you know?”

Flinging the covers off of his lower body, Noya reaches over the side of the bed and gropes around the floor for his discarded pants. Once he has them, he yanks his phone out of the pocket. “Which artist?” he all but growls out. 

“Um. His name is Kuroo Tetsu—”

“Of course. Of course. Oh my god, I’m gonna kill him.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope y'all enjoyed!!! <3 kudos and comments always appreciated!
> 
> come scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/OedipusOctopus)! 
> 
> black lives matter. wear a mask. wash your hands.
> 
> check out the amazing [ART](https://interstellarhitchhiker.tumblr.com/post/637911144564178944/asahi-and-noya-together-in-asahis-flower-shop)!!!! done by the fantastic [ellis](https://twitter.com/cursed__amulet)!!!!


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